


Defy the Light

by CoralWaters



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Derek is a Good Alpha, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rough Sex, Undercover Cop Stiles Stilinski, derek was in a werewolf sex slave ring for a while, no description of non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 05:23:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2496002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoralWaters/pseuds/CoralWaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek shifted uncomfortably in his bindings in a futile attempt to loosen the wolfsbane-laced ties that kept him “subdued” and “pliant” for the client.  Unable to get comfortable or use his heightened senses to figure out where he was being held, the werewolf’s mind jolted violently back to the events leading up to him being held prisoner in a werewolf sex-slave ring.  </p>
<p>I honestly don't know where this idea came from.  But I like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Defy the Light

**Author's Note:**

> Completely Un-beta'd, and my first fic, so go easy on me! 
> 
> I use a lot of commas and I'm a terrible speller so prepare for that.
> 
> There's no forced-sex in this fic, just allusions to it. I hope the tags are sufficient!
> 
> I dunno, people, leave me messages and stuff. I love a bad pun, so feel free to leave one of those in the comments if you're feeling it. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Derek shifted uncomfortably in his bindings in a futile attempt to loosen the wolfsbane-laced ties that kept him “subdued” and “pliant” for the client. Unable to get comfortable or use his heightened senses to figure out where he was being held, the werewolf’s mind jolted violently back to the events leading up to him being held prisoner in a werewolf sex-slave ring. 

-oOo-

The moon was strong that night, making the pull impossible to resist. Derek’s small pack gathered in back of the soon-to-be-rebuilt Hale house, looking towards the safety of the heavily wooded preserve. 

Derek stood next to Erica who bounced on the balls of her feet, already shifted in her beta form and ready to rip through the trees. Next to her, Boyd and Isaac gave the appearance of calm, but a closer inspection revealed wildness in their eyes and a quick thrum in their feral hearts, beating in time with the electric forces of the earth and the primal satisfaction of a full moon run.

Silently the last cloud in the sky slipped from the moon’s path, fully revealing her light. Derek took a deep breath, rolled his neck, and let the ancient forces fill and shift his body to the moon’s call. As he opened his crimson eyes he let loose a roar to his pack, releasing Erica and her impatience into the night, Boyd overtaking her in a few powerful bounds with Isaac hot on his heels. Derek waited in the clearing to soak up a few more precious seconds with the uninhibited moonlight before digging his claws into the dirt beneath his bare feet and tearing after his betas. 

 

-oOo-

 

“Think, Derek, think” the rational side thought to drown out the undercurrent of packpackpack that thrummed through his veins. The glass enclosing Derek was laced with magic or wolfsbane or mountain ash or something that prevented him from sensing the world outside. He could see the portion of the hallway directly in front of his ten by ten room – cell his brain angrily provided – that contained him. The carpet outside was a deep red threaded through with gold so luxurious it looked like liquid. The walls paneled richly in a deep mahogany gave the hallway an air of opulence with just enough darkness to seem dangerous. Fitting, considering the goods in each cell on the one side of the hall. His own cell was nothing more than three black walls opposite the glass one.

Pushing his fear down, Derek considered his position. He stood in the middle of the cell – as naked as the day he was born – with his wrists in shackles pulled tight to two of the walls, forcing him to spread his arms wide facing the glass wall. If he’s being honest with himself, it didn’t look like escape in this position was really possible. The restraints were stronger than he was, plus the more he pulled, the harder the poisoned chains cut into his wrists. 

He heard something shift behind him and strained to catch sight of what was causing the noise. A figure stepped out from a hidden doorway that had opened in the wall directly behind him. 

“I knew you couldn’t resist me forever,” Derek’s blood ran cold, every hair on his body tingled. A current rippled under his skin sending a chill spiraling down his back. 

“Kate.” The name forcing it’s way out through his clenched teeth.

“That’s right, Der-bear, the bitch is back,” She said as she stepped right in front of him, shamefully an inch too far for him to reach with his teeth, even if he strained. Her blond hair fell long in perfect curls nearly to where her hands rested on her leather-clad hips, and the smirk on her face was vicious.

The rage Derek felt at that moment prevented him from making any noise other than a growl that started so low in his chest it permeated every pore in his body, burning off of him like heat from a house fire. 

“Oh come now, pet, don’t be mad! You should have known this was coming at some point. Plus if you’re very, very good, I just may take you for myself,” her voice was trying for seduction, but all Derek felt was repulsed. This woman killed his family. This… monster, in front of him had seduced his teenage self into thinking she was the one. She was everything he would have asked for – strong, confident, sharp – and used his inexperience to draw him to her bed. He had trusted her so deeply he would have done anything for her. Almost anything. 

“You have such beautiful red eyes, now,” She noted, moving a step closer to his fangs. Derek didn’t move. Two more steps and he’d be able to land a pretty serious bite to the jugular.

“I can’t wait to watch them break you,” she went on, her voice dropping, “It’ll be so fun watching the fire go out behind those rubies.” One more step.

“But! Alas, that’s not my job,” She swayed back completely out of Derek’s reach and he rattled the chains with another aggressive growl. “Have fun, baby,” She said as she left the room. 

Within seconds there were two men taking her place in front of the werewolf, identical in every way.

“Hi,” Tweedle-dee said.

“We’re here to break you,” continued Tweedle-dum while the first drew back the whip in his hand and let it crack right against Derek’s neck, the pain of which tore a deafening howl from the wolf.

Never, he promised himself as Dee drew the whip back again.

 

.oOo.

 

Releasing his wolf to the surface of his being was as easy as breathing for Derek. In this form he was the most comfortable, the most relaxed, like taking off your shoes at the end of a long day on your feet. Elevated senses picked up the rest of the pack as they raced through the Northern California underbrush, Isaac threading his way through narrow openings while staying low to the ground and close to Derek’s flank. Erica, true to nature, was excitedly yipping and leaping over obstacles in her path with the agility better fitting a lemur than a wolf with Boyd leading her on an unwavering path forged with strength and determination. Derek was happy to follow their trail and enjoy his freedom, letting his senses go dull to melt into the run and the strength of the pack. 

When Erica and Boyd stopped short, Derek nearly ran them down only pulling up at the last minute to avoid from becoming a canine bowling ball, Isaac gliding in beside him on quiet paws. 

“What is it, why did you stop?” Derek asked. It was quite unusual for the betas to stop a run this beautiful on such short notice so the alpha let his senses expand, sharpening them to their surroundings. There were squirrels in a tree ahead storing their cache, a raccoon skipping through the fallen leaves to the left, and far up and to the right a narrow brook was tumbling through the woods to the river at the bottom of the valley. 

Derek turned to his betas to ask again what the matter was when he heard it. An unnatural click from behind, a click like a gun being cocked when its target is within range. Three pairs of wide eyes stared past him into the trees toward the origin of the noise. Derek flicked his ears back to pick up half a dozen heartbeats he had missed with his dulled senses while the distinct smell of gunpowder reached his nose. Eyes blazing, the alpha whipped around to face the mystery group in time to be blinded by an impossibly bright flash. Reeling back he fell as a burning weight seared his skin and dragged him to the ground. Derek’s first thought was to get his pack to safety, but turning back to the others, he saw the betas trapped under what appeared to be a net powerful enough to contain four fully grown werewolves. 

The pain was clouding Derek’s mind as he slipped out of consciousness but not before he distinctly heard the cold feminine voice above him ask, “Did you miss me?”

As Derek faded in and out of the black, he did his best to catalogue every last piece of information he could get on his attackers. In addition to the woman – cold-blooded murderer, his anger provided – there were at least 4 men, one of whom spoke with authority in a soft and faintly British or South African accent. 

“Don’t maim them, idiot, you know Lunar Eclipse will not pay for sub-par wolves.” The voice instructed. 

Derek’s brain shorted for a moment as the words sunk in. He knew of the ring of hunters who made up Lunar Eclipse. In fact he knew some of the hunters themselves. Lunar Eclipse was a werewolf trafficking ring where wolves were captured and sold into slavery. Their business specifically catered to those who wanted to use wolves for more… pleasurable reasons. Those who were looking for the best of the best to share their million dollar beds for a night called LE and were invited to the halls where the moon could not reach.

Fear struck his heart quickly, no one ever left those halls. “No” Derek mumbled before the black surrounded him again.

“Oh, yes,” the voice above him said, “he’s a keeper”.

 

.oOo.

 

Derek couldn’t remember how long he’s been in hell. It seemed like lifetimes, millennia. Entire universes have been created and destroyed and the whole time he’s been captive, never catching sight of moon or sun. It’s been a blur of whips, chains, ropes, and sedatives. They’ve starved him for days, tortured him with waterboarding, and insulted him and his entire family every second of every hour. 

Still, he never broke. 

“All we want,” someone was saying, “is for you to be cooperative. That’s all. Just be a good little sub and give in.” That’s the other thing. While he was never raped, never had a toy or cock up his ass or in his mouth, and never been held down as anyone touched his dick, they always talked about it.

“Just let us do it and it will all stop,” they told him. “It’s why you’re here, you might as well let it happen.” The taunting never ended, and more than a few of his ‘punishments’ have been getting pelted with dildos as someone told him that if he were to just use one, then it would all stop. All they let him think about was how to stop the torture, how easy it would be, how relieved he’d feel if he were to just give in. 

His resolve never faltered, he never touched a toy, and he never, ever, stopped fighting. This resulted in him having to be calmed down by injected wolfsbane almost every day, which caused him to wake up feeling like he had a wicked hangover every morning. 

Occasionally there would be a guest at Lunar Eclipse. Some rich fuck who was probably too impotent to fuck anyone else, and decided to try his perverted luck with a werewolf. On these occasions, Derek regained consciousness with his arms strung up to the walls, and Gerard Argent in front of him, leading around the bastard looking for a slave. 

That day was just like any other. Tortured before breakfast, sedated before lunch. This time as Derek surfaced from the blackness he had started to find comfort in, he was strung up for some guest. He didn’t struggle in his chains like he did the first day; he was resolved to the fact that he would leave this place in a body bag. Instead he just stared with the gaze of a wild-man with nothing left to fight for except the fight itself. That’s when Argent led the man into his view.

 

-oOo-

 

Stiles stood tall in his Armani suit with his hands slid confidently into his pockets and looked in on the werewolf in the first cell. It was a girl, probably somewhere near his age; with wild blond hair and a glare that he was pretty sure would kill him if he looked her in the eye. Averting his gaze from her death stare, he observed with a detached kind of fascination the vulnerability of the pose she was forced into. Arms open wide in a sick invitation to survey the goods while she stood exposed. 

“Here is one of our newest conquests,” the old man beside him was saying, “she’s just about done with her house-breaking and will be ready as soon as you’d need her.” 

At the price of $500,000 just to walk in the doors to Lunar Eclipse, Stiles sure as shit expected them to fit his schedule. 

“You said you were looking for someone strong,” the man went on, “and I believe that she will be more than fitting of that description.” The sadistic edge in his voice added to the self-righteous air he had going on. Stiles hated self-righteous.

“My needs won’t be satisfied by this one. She seems like she’s be too easily broken. I was hoping you’d have someone a little more experienced or durable. Maybe conventionally undesirable?” Stiles asked with a specific purpose in mind. He needed the one who would not get chosen otherwise. He needed the hopeless case. 

“Let me lead you through all our choices, so I can learn exactly what you’d like” the disturbing old man said. 

Gerard Argent, that was his name, Stiles belatedly remembers. What a creep. 

As the elderly Argent led Stiles down the hall, they passed about eight werewolves. Some were skinny and pale, others broad and dark skinned, but every one was exceptionally good-looking, as if they were handpicked out of an underwear catalogue. Men and women both present in equal numbers, alphas and betas alike. Argent outlined how the omegas weren’t seen as ‘desirable’ and thus were killed outright if caught in the hunt for new merchandise. 

What a sick creep, Stiles’ brain amended. 

“Here is one of the newest wolves to be brought in, and I think he could be exactly what you’re looking for,” the decrepit man was saying “he’s going to be hard to sell to the other customers.” 

“Why is that?” Stiles asked as Gerard led him back to the last window in the hall. 

“He’s taking a bit longer than usual to house-break properly,” Gerard spoke like he was choosing his words carefully, politically. 

Stiles slowly walked to stand at the center of the window to look directly into the face of the man within. He was strikingly handsome, as were the others, though this man was more. He had cheekbones to cut glass and a body that could have been carved from the hand of Michelangelo himself. Stiles’ eyes skated over the superficial features until he caught the man’s eyes. Even from the distance he could see the intricate pattern of greens and browns in his irises that mixed with something more intrinsic to the man himself making it impossible to look away. 

He was livid, that much was obvious from body language alone. His chest – gorgeous, gorgeous chest – heaved with the efforts of containing the rage within and his square jaw was clenched to contain a roar that would surely shake the walls. It was the eyes that drew Stiles in, they showed him exactly what he was looking for: uncontrolled fury. The werewolf jerked forward and flashed his eyes red.

Stiles watched before he turned to the elderly Argent, “I think I can handle it.”

 

-oOo-

 

Derek panted and counted his breaths to not wolf-out. The perverts loved that. Two people stepped into view of his window, one old and unsteady as he shuffled back to let the younger man stand front and center. He was probably in his early twenties but his youthful demeanor was lacking the excitement of freedom; instead he had the haggard look of an older man. His eyes were hardened like crystalized amber above a cupid’s bow mouth set in a determined line. His pale skin seemed to glow in the subdued light of the hallway, highlighting high cheekbones and small moles scattered delicately across the clear expanse of visible skin.

Stop it, Derek thought, this bastard is clearly here to get some sick fun off of Daddy’s money. Some fucked up thrill he can’t get with designer drugs and random hookers.

They stared at each other for a few drawn out heart beats, amber versus hazel, until Derek flashed his alpha-red eyes and jolted forward to scare the kid away. 

He didn’t even blink. In fact he outright smirked at the show of futile power. 

Fucker.

The young man turned to his elderly host and said something that Derek couldn’t catch. He couldn’t even see those beautiful lips form the words as the two strangers in the hallway turned and walked away without even a backwards glance. 

A chill ran through Derek as he was left alone once again. The bigger part of him was glad to be left alone, while the smallest voice in the back of his head was wondering if he’d get to see the younger man again. 

 

-oOo-

 

Stiles stood and shook Mr. Argents hand. His head was a little dizzy from the amount of money that just changed hands. The rules and precautions had all been laid out for him regarding how his purchase was handled and protected for the duration of his ownership. 

“Seeing as this is not your first purchase from us, Mr. Stilinski, I take it I do not have to go over the entire safety briefing, but I will highlight to you that the emergency numbers have changed, as has the protocol for the removal of defective wolves.” Gerard motioned to the thick paper in Stiles’ hands where the title read:

For the Removal of Unwanted, Uncontrolled, or Defective Purchases

A weight dropped in Stiles’ stomach at the implications of that statement. “Removal” in this case clearly meant something more like “euthanization” or “murder” of wolves that didn’t cooperate with their new master. 

Stiles took the cue Argent was giving him and walked through the heavy wood doors of the office into the opulent waiting room. 

“Would you like to see your choice be prepared for transport?” Gerard asked.

“Absolutely” Stiles said, adjusting the button on his suit jacket. 

He was led down the same hallway, wolves welcoming him back with violently open arms, to the very end where the man with the green-brown eyes had them locked on the ground. 

“Could you explain to me what happens now?” Stiles asked. “Last time I was too nervous to fully understand the goings-on.” He half turned to the older man, keeping both Argent and the wolf in his sight.

“And we are so honored you’ve chose to return to us after the mishap that was your last purchase. Currently we are waiting for an associate to come in and sedate your wolf with a special blend of wolfsbane that acts similar to chloroform when injected. We will remove the cuffs keeping him restrained and wheel him out to our transportation vehicle that will bring him to your estate. I have been assured that any shortcomings in your holding quarters have been properly resolved to ensure history will not repeat itself. Again, I do apologize for the circumstances of last year.” Gerard seemed even more like a worm as he tried to placate Stiles’ worries. 

“Yes last year was rather… unfortunate, wouldn’t you agree?” Stiles was just fucking with him now, watching the slimy man squirm just a little more.

“Of course, sir, absolutely, but rest assured we have solved all the issues that led to that instance” Gerard amended.

“We’ll see.” Stiles said dismissively. 

As the last exchange was occurring, an exotic looking woman had entered the cell in front of them from a hidden door in the back. She had a syringe that was quickly planted into the tender flesh of the man’s neck, leaving him with no time to react. Stiles averted his gaze to avoid watching the body slump seemingly lifeless before the wolf was taken out of his shackles and put on a gurney to be wheeled out of the building. 

“If you’ll follow me, Mr. Stilinkski, I’ll personally see that your car is brought around front.” Gerard slinked down the hall with no regard to the lives trapped on the other side of the windows. Stiles looked at each face he passed, sensing the despair, rage, fear, and helplessness in every glance. This is why he was here. With every eye he caught, he tried to contort his face into a look that said ‘hold tight, we’re coming.”

 

-oOo-

 

This time when Derek regained consciousness he was in a new room all together. This one was bigger, with actual furniture and no chains that he could see. He let his senses open as he woke, realizing that there were no sensory-dampening walls here. He could smell the detergent of the sheets he was laying on, feel the air conditioner blow from the corner of the room, and even hear a heartbeat close by. 

Suddenly wide-awake, Derek bolted up right and whipped his head around to locate the elusive thumping. 

“Do that any faster and you’ll get whiplash.” A voice said calmly from the door to his right.

Quickly turning to the voice, Derek recognized the young man from before leaning on the doorjamb, this time dressed casually in dark jeans and a plain tee, a grey hoodie hung loosely from his broad shoulders. 

Rage shot through his veins at the sight, this man bought him, thought that he was some commodity to be used at his beck and call. Well. If he thought Derek would go over easily, he had another thing coming. In one lightning-fast movement, he launched himself off the bed, dropped his fangs, lengthened his claws, and aimed directly for the man’s throat. 

So when Derek hit what felt like a steel wall and was ricocheted back to the ground to land flat on his ass a second later, he probably looked like a kicked puppy.

“Calm down, Sourwolf, I don’t really think you want to kill your rescuer.” The man said with the same calm as before, like he was unconcerned a fully-grown alpha werewolf had just attempted to violently rip out his throat. 

With that comment, Derek’s blood began to boil all over again. The anger raced through his veins, turning his eyes a threatening red as he glared down the man in the doorway. 

“Rescuer??” Derek spat, “Rescuer my ass, you pathetic piece of shit. Humans like you are the reason werewolves stay hidden. You’re just some spoiled brat looking to get off without knowing how much pleasure I’m going to get from killing you first. The worst part of all of this is I have to touch your rancid blood when I rip your throat out,” he said as he stood up, realizing with a hint of disappointment that the kid was nearly as tall as he was. 

“Oh, really?” The kid asked, incredulous, “Does it look like I’ve thrown you in a sex dungeon? Are you chained up, drugged, beaten, or injured? Look around you; does this look like somewhere a sex slave is kept?” He took a deep breath and began again, this time softer, “Look, I know you’re feeling threatened or trapped right now, but you’re not in any danger here. This is a safe house. My best friend was bitten almost ten years ago, now, and about a year and a half ago he was kidnapped by LE the same way you were. I got him out. I got you out. And I’m getting the rest of them out, too.” He turned and walked away without another word, leaving Derek standing in the middle of the room to wonder what the hell just happened. 

Realizing the kid or man or person or whoever wasn’t coming back so soon, Derek took a moment to look around more carefully. The room was nice, like a guest room in your rich Uncles’ house. The space was large and distantly welcoming, like any handsome room devoid of personality is. There was a wide dresser, which upon further investigation Derek found held an array of clothing choices in a variety of sizes. Reminded of his own nudity, he took out a pair of sweatpants and a soft t-shirt and pulled them on. Feeling more put together he investigated the space to find it was less of a bedroom, and more of a small apartment. 

Opposite the bed there was a door that lead to a tiny kitchenette with a mini-fridge, sink, and microwave facing a small kitchen table. The room to the left of the bedroom was a bathroom nicer than the one Derek had at his own apartment. A full soaker tub, dual-headed shower, and a granite topped vanity all made of very expensive materials. Aside from the closet, there was only one door Derek had not explored, the one the man had occupied. He was somehow barred from leaving his small apartment through that entrance, but he figured there could be another way out. 

As he started searching for hidden gateways, he heard the man’s heartbeat approach again. Moving to stand in the shadow near the doorway, Derek waited for the guy to come into view again.

“Hey, uh, OH! Wow, okay, dude you scared me there. Do you always lurk like that? Don’t answer that. So first off I guess I should introduce myself, I’m Stiles, yes that’s a nickname, no you cannot know my real name, yes I’m bringing you food. Anything else?” The guy – Stiles? – spoke at a break-neck pace that Derek struggled to keep up with.

“Um,” he responded eloquently, “what kind of food?” You fucking idiot, his brain supplied. His answer seemed to take Stiles by surprise, at least making him stop moving for one second as if his whole body jolted to a halt. 

That is until he started laughing. Or cackling, really. He threw his whole body into his laughter, Derek noted, like it rippled out from his lungs to every part of him. Stiles’ narrow frame shook from head to foot as he wiped the tears from his eyes.

“A man of my own heart.” He chuckled, “Food always comes first, amiright? There’s chili on the stove or I can whip up some pasta for you. That’s the extent of my cooking, though, so it’s all I can offer.” He gave Derek a sheepish look.

“Chili.” He said slowly with a small hint of a question.

“Coming right up…” He asked leadingly.

“Derek”

“Coming right up, Derek” he said quietly holding the werewolf’s gaze for a beat too long before promptly swiveling to return to the kitchen. 

Derek listened as Stiles moved around the space, banging open cabinets and drawers while muttering quietly about one thing or another. He took another look around and noted there were no windows in the space. At all. A basement, he thought as adrenaline struck his heart. Luckily Stiles returned a moment later with a large bowl, a serving spoon, and a pitcher of water, which distracted Derek from his rising anxiety.

“I know whatever crap they give you to knock you out makes you guys pretty hungry so I figured I’d skip the multiple helpings gig and go straight for the ‘bucket and shovel’ method of feeding. Hope you don’t mind it pretty mild, I can’t take the heat.” With a self-depreciating huff Stiles set the bowl on a small end table just inside the door with the pitcher and a glass he pulled from his pocket. 

“Yeah, so, sorry about the mountain ash trick earlier, too. I figured you wouldn’t be too happy to see me before I got a chance to explain myself. Was pretty spot-on about that one, huh.” Derek warily regarded the man as he sniffed the bowl from a good 5 feet away.

“It’s not going to bite you, and you’d smell it if it were poisoned.” Stiles said impatiently, “I’m not going to hurt you, I’m just keeping you in here until I’m sure you’re not going to go all…” he made some motion that Derek supposed meant ‘claw your face off’ “and I’ll let you return to wherever it is you came from as soon as you’re no longer a threat. Eat.” He instructed.

Derek was inclined to believe him when no uptick in his heartbeat was detected. All true, then. He quickly swiped the bowl and spoon from the table and sat on the edge of the bed to dig in. As soon as the chili touched his tongue he realized how hungry he was for real food. Any food, actually. That and his stomach had growled so loud it practically tried to communicate with outer space. 

Stiles disappeared for a brief second only to return with a desk chair and plop down in the doorway.

Great, Derek thought, He’s a talker.

 

.oOo.

 

“So…” 

The awkward silence stretch on as Derek ate. Stiles, unaccustomed to gaps in conversation due to his uncanny ability to talk extensively on pretty much any subject, was grasping at straws for some way to get Derek to open up to him. 

“So, read anything good lately?” Derek didn’t even blink.

“Any movies you want to see?” Nada.

“Star in any pornos recently?” Stiles tried just to get some reaction out of his broody houseguest. The werewolf blinked this time, but Stiles assumed that was more out of necessity than any sort of answer to his query. 

“I’ll take that as a no. What about your family?” This time Stiles managed to get Derek to stop eating all together. The man went perfectly still, spoon held in a chokehold above the bowl. 

“Ding ding ding!! We have a winner!” Stiles sang as he imitated a game show host, “Okay, family, what are they like? Do you have a big family? Are they all as quiet as you are? That must make family dinners kind of boring, I’d think.”

Derek continued to attempt to strangle his flatware as Stiles rambled on. At the slightest hint of him stopping for a breath, Derek quietly said, “No.”

“Come again?” 

“They’re gone. Nearly my entire extended family was burned alive when the Argents locked them in the basement of my childhood home and set the foundation on fire. The ones that didn’t die moved to the other side of the country. So the answer is no. Just… to all of it.”

If Stiles thought the silence before was awkward it was nothing compared to now. Tension rolled in the space separating Derek and Stiles like the swell of a stormy ocean.

“I’m so sorry, Derek, I had no idea.”

The older man didn’t respond, simply poking around his empty chili bowl like it would activate a trap door to help him escape. 

“My mom died when I was 9.” Stiles began, “Cancer. Had the whole ugly process of dying dragged on for months right in front of me.” Too low for any human to hear he whispered, “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.” The dark swell of the ocean was back, silently rolling between the two men.

“Yes, well!” Stiles jerked up, never one to let himself wallow in self-pity he forced cheer into his voice and forged on, “What do you do, then? Is that a safer subject? Now that we’ve got the big secrets out of the way, we can talk about pretty much anything, I suppose.”

Derek seemed marginally more willing to talk after the exchange. 

“I was a bodyguard, sometimes a club bouncer. Depends.” He said without looking up from the bowl. Derek looked almost pained at the confession. 

“I’m a detective. At the Sheriff’s department. With my dad. The Sheriff. I work for him… He’s my dad… Sheriff Stilinski…” Stiles trailed off to internally and repeatedly kick himself for being such a dumbass. 

There must have been some power surge or blackout or mild apocalypse the next moment because Stiles swore he saw Derek smirk, an honest to god physical expression of humor. Huh. Stiles ducked his head to hide as every red blood cell in his body made its way to his face, flushing his cheeks, ears, and down to his chest. 

“So, uhm, I’ll get that cleaned up for you,” Stiles said as he took the bowl and spoon from the table and quickly turned for the kitchen, mortified the entire way.

 

.oOo.

 

Derek tracked the movement of Stiles’ blush as it flooded his skin and brought a wave of emotions with it. Derek could smell his embarrassment and shame, slightly masking the intoxicating scent that was purely Stiles. While the younger man was in the kitchen putting away the dishes, Derek tried to identify exactly what his scent smelled like. It was warm like summer but spicy and sharp. No, not spicy… the sharpness felt more like it was sparking with energy the way you can feel a lightening storm approach in the summer. It hummed pleasantly under Derek’s skin long after Stiles had left the room. 

When the younger man came back, they continued to talk, covering innocent subjects like ‘Where do you live?’, ‘What are your friends like?’, and anything interesting they had in common. Stiles’ favorite question to ask someone was always ‘If you could be doing anything in the world as a job, what would you do?’ because most of the time, the answer makes that persons face light up with passion and they launch into a rapid soliloquy on whatever they love to do most in the world, it’s intoxicating hear someone talk like that.

However, when Stiles asked Derek, the answer was a little different. Instead of thinking on it for a minute before bursting into some long-winded answer on traveling, or animals, or making money, like many others; Derek was quiet. For a while. 

A loonnggg while, Stiles noted, though he could see the gears turning in the wolf’s head.

Finally Derek spoke. Quietly and with determination he said, “I want other werewolves coming out of bad situations to know they never have to go it alone,” even quieter he added, “I don’t want them to live like I did.” The wolf ducked his head and leaned his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together.

Stiles was stunned. Derek’s answer sent a shock directly to his heart, which pumped out a few hard beats in misery seeing him so vulnerable. Truly he never expected this brick wall of chiseled muscle to have such intense compassion for others. Stiles’ thoughts turned to all the other wolves that were still captive at Lunar Eclipse. 

“Derek, that’s amazing,” Stiles began slowly. “You’re amazing. And it gives me an idea, actually. Did I ever tell you exactly what my position is as at the Sheriff’s department?”

Derek quirked an eyebrow and shook his head, no.

“This can’t be official, of course, but since my dad knows about the supernatural, he puts me on all the cases we suspect have elements that surpass the abilities of the Sheriff’s Department. Basically I protect and serve the magical community of Beacon Hills. That’s what I was doing at LE in the first place.” Here Stiles paused to catch Derek’s eye, “I know that if a wolf doesn’t pass the ‘House Breaking’ stage, as they call it, they’ll most likely just kill them. I was down there looking for the werewolf I thought would be hardest to break, the one that would never give in. That’s why I picked you.”

Stiles held Derek’s searching gaze, never breaking eye contact as the werewolf took his time and absorbed this new information. 

“What’s your idea?” Derek cautiously asked.

“Well, you’re a bodyguard, right?” Derek nodded, “Right, so, I can’t exactly go back down there and use the same excuse I used to get you out. They’ve reinforced my “Wolf Chambers” so now it’s completely unlikely that any supernatural creature could escape them. Plus there’s no way I’m getting enough money from the department to buy someone’s way out again. What I need is a way to smuggle the others out without being seen.”

Stiles paused to make sure Derek was following. 

Two beats later Derek saw where he was headed, “You want me to help you kidnap vicious and probably feral werewolves out of a silver and wolfsbane encased building – that has better security than the White House during the presidential inauguration – and past a couple hundred supernaturally trained hunters who want nothing more than to kill any werewolf they even remotely think is trying to get away? Am I reading this right?” Derek’s look was incredulous with just a hint of “you just fell out of the crazy tree and hit every bad idea branch on the way down”. 

“Um…” Stiles truly had never thought about it that way. “Well yes, I guess. It’s not only getting them out, though, because it would be ridiculous to release them as soon as we get them out, they’ve been help captive and tortured, they’re in no mental state to be on their own for at least the first month.”

“Yeah, because that’s the ridiculous part,” Derek snipped under his breath.

“I heard that and the position of smartass has already been filled, thank you very much,” Stiles spat. 

Caught off guard, Derek huffed out a short laugh at Stiles’ comeback, looking up to catch Stiles’ smirk and the spark in one honey-amber eye before quickly averting his gaze to reassemble his customary scowl. 

Derek started thinking about all the other wolves that were probably still chained up back at Lunar Eclipse and how he could help them if somehow the insanity Stiles was proposing would work out. 

“Wait,” he blanched, “my pack. MY PACK!” Derek had gone from amused to a raging wolfed-out alpha in a split second, releasing a roar that shook the house on its very foundation. 

Stiles was knocked over backwards in his chair from the sheer amount of rage that erupted from the previously docile man in front of him. Lying on his back staring up, the man in front of him was more beast than human, with nails that sprouted into vicious claws, fangs that shot down from his canines – no pun intended, Stiles’ impeccable comedic timing supplied – and a face contorted not only from the transformation, but by rage and – if Stiles had to guess – more than a little bit of fear. 

Wild red eyes swept back and forth across the space before zeroing in on Stiles, still flat on his ass in the only doorway that led out.

“Derek, NO! The barrier!” Stiles shouted as the werewolf launched himself towards the exit with double the strength of last time. Derek’s mass hit the mountain ash line and in a flash was thrown across the room where his back made contact with the wall opposite with a sickening crunch before falling motionless onto the bed he had so abruptly vacated not seconds before. 

Stiles sat petrified with fear long enough for his heart to miss a beat before he was up and scrambling towards Derek’s side. The wolf was facedown and extremely difficult for the bag of sarcasm and bones named Stiles to shift onto his side. 

“Shit. Derek, fuck, please be okay,” Stiles cursed above the figure, hands fluttering above the wolf’s head and shoulders without making contact once he finally managed to turn him over. Stiles’ heart was pounding in his chest hard enough to hurt as he ran through every emergency response he could call on from his training. 

He could preform CPR and he had an AED in the house, but this was a werewolf, would he even respond to those tools?

Just as Stiles was about to really start losing it, Derek stirred. He puffed a little snort of air that was music to Stiles’ ears.

“Oh thank god, I am not equipped to handle this kind of emergency.” Stiles was frantic, “I mean you really could have died there, Derek! Actually, what the hell were you thinking?! That was mountain ash you dumb fuck! I can’t believe you would actually – “ 

“Sti’es,” Derek groaned

“ – think it’s a good idea to wolf out and go – “

“STILES,” Derek tried again

“ – bounding through a magically reinforced – “

Derek reached out with one de-clawed hand and pushed Stiles hard enough to make him topple to his ass for the second time. 

“Rude,” Stiles pouted as he rubbed his sore tailbone. 

“Stiles, I’m okay, but you have to let me go. My pack is in danger and I’m the only one that can save them.” Recent events made Derek’s speech a little less decipherable, so it came out sounding more like “Sti’es, m’kay, hafta lemme go. M’packs n’danger, mm on’y one”. The disoriented werewolf tried to push himself up only to have his arms buckle a second later.

“Yeah, you’re not going anywhere, big guy,” Stiles easily pushed Derek back onto the mattress, “that’s a pretty strong barrier I have there, you’re going to need to sleep off the shock a little, first.”

Derek was snoring as soon as laid back against the feather comforter.

 

.oOo.

 

It would be hours before Stiles would hear any movement from downstairs. In the meantime he pulled his laptop close and opened Google. He was going to shut down Lunar Eclipse if it was the last thing he did. All he needed was a little backup and a lot of research.

The first delicate hint of Derek regaining consciousness came in the form of a scream so loud the glasses in the cabinets clanked against each other.

“STILES!!” Came the bellow.

Stiles flailed majestically, nearly braining himself on the floor again before scrambling downstairs. Derek didn’t waste any time, as soon as he caught sight of him he began,

“Stiles let me out of here. My pack is in danger and I’m going to them whether you help me or not, you just have to let me out of here first.” Derek was desperate and breathing heavily. They both knew he wasn’t going anywhere trapped behind mountain ash, only the human could break the barrier.

“Derek,” Stiles began quickly, “slow down, while you were out I was coming up with a plan. Your betas are my first priority to get out, you have to believe me, but we can’t just go running in there, guns blazing. You said so yourself the security’s too tight, we’d get caught in a second. I’d be killed outright, and they’d probably torture you to death.”

Stiles could see Derek pause and consider what he had said. That was major progress from the impulsive idiot who had blindly tried to crash through an impenetrable wall of magic earlier. 

“Fine,” Derek growled in resignation, “but we go now, I need them safe.”

“I agree, but I have some people I need you to meet, first. We can’t handle this, just the two of us, so I brought in some reinforcements.” Stiles eyed Derek skeptically, “I’m going to break the mountain ash circle now, but first I need your word you’re going to do this with us. You’d be putting yourself and your pack in further danger if we do this half-assed, okay?” 

Stiles waited for the stiff nod before bending down and ripping up a floorboard.

“The mountain ash is built in so I don’t have to keep re-laying it every time.” He explained to Derek in his confusion. 

“Do you often harbor crazed werewolves?” Derek asked, lifting an eyebrow in silent jest.

“No but maybe I would if more of them looked like you,” Stiles eyes widened comically, shocked that he had been so brazen. “UH! Anyway, no, that room is part of my cover, it’s supposed to be the uh… the… well, the room where I would – theoretically – bring the werewolf for… reasons” he stammered out. 

Stiles peaked over to Derek where his ears were turning progressively redder. 

“You mean for the reason you would actually have bought a werewolf,” Derek clarified

“Yeah, for that.” A mildly awkward silence fell over the two as they walked upstairs to the actual living room. 

Stiles led the way down a long hallway where they passed a spacious office and a full bathroom. He knew how the house looked, of course. The department had set him up in the repossessed mansion of a major drug dealer for the duration of this time with the LE case. 

The floors varied from a rich mahogany to white marble, the walls were almost all white, same as the furniture. The space was sparsely decorated – they called it ‘minimalist’ or ‘modern’ but Stiles didn’t care enough to pay attention. He called it empty, being more of a ‘warm fireplace and a comfy couch’ kind of guy. It was massive, opulent, and everything Stiles wasn’t. The good part was it was also very private, which meant he could wear whatever the hell he wanted without having to worry about keeping up the façade of a wealthy man from back east with “old money”. 

The wide hallway opened up into the living room/kitchen space, which was – you guessed it – massive. The kitchen island looked like it could fit a full-sized mattress on it, all black lines and white angles. It would look sterile if it didn’t still have evidence of the shit show that was Stiles making chili. 

Scott, Allison, and Lydia were watching Derek survey his surroundings from the couch on the other side of the room.

“Derek…” Stiles hesitated, “this is our backup. I would use officers from the station, but they don’t know about werewolves so I had to bring in the specialists.” He motioned to the living room side of the space and watched nervously as the two sides stared at each other. Scott – bless him – walked over to Derek with a small smile on his face as he held out his hand in offering.

“Hey, I’m Scott. It’s good to meet someone else who’s escaped that cesspit. How are you feeling?” Scott asked. 

“You’re a wolf,” Derek said instead, ignoring the proffered hand.

Ah, manners, Stiles thought.

“Yeah, I was bitten back in high school. I’m an internal medicine doctor now, down at Beacon General. Seemed fitting, considering I can kind of… smell what’s wrong with people, you know? Use my powers for good and all that,” Scott smiled innocently at Derek. 

If there were one person on this earth that could bring down Derek’s defenses in the first moment he met him, it would be Scott. An inch of tension left Derek’s shoulders and he finally took Scotts hand and shook it. 

Scott then introduced Allison as his wife, and then Lydia. The girls stepped forward to shake his hand. Derek didn’t look impressed.

“I’m sure all of you are more than willing to help,” Derek began, “but Stiles, how the hell are we going to accomplish this with two humans I could snap like twigs and a wolf who’s not even trained for combat?” Derek looked pissed. 

Stiles’ eyes narrowed progressively through Derek’s little speech. “You don’t even know them, Derek.”

“What’s there to know? They’re not fit for this kind of operation, at least you have access to weapons that could actually kill something!” Yeah he was definitely mad.

“You really think I would pull just anyone into this mess? Really??” Stiles’ blood was boiling. No one talked about his friends like that. “Scott here single-handedly defeated a kanima without killing it, and even recruited the turned wolf into his pack. He stopped a rogue band of fae from destroying the entire town and they’re now our go-to source for all things supernatural. There was a fucking vampire here a few weeks ago that he didn’t even fight, just went and talked to her and set up a deal with her so that she only feeds consensually on other supernatural beings. He’s got better instincts than anyone I’ve ever met in my life and on top of that, found out he was a true alpha within the first year of being a werewolf.” 

Derek was staring wide-eyed at Scott who blushed furiously and looked like he was trying to melt into the rug beneath him.

“Lydia is a genius. I don’t mean that to be nice, either, I mean she’s actually got an IQ off the charts. Plus, she’s been spending all her free time with the fae I just mentioned, learning everything she can about the supernatural shit that goes on, specifically werewolves, for obvious reasons. She probably knows more about your nature than you do and the stupidest thing you could do in your life is underestimate her.” Stiles was on a roll now, with no end in sight.

“And Allison!” He huffed an incredulous laugh, “She’s human, yes, but she’s tougher than 90% of the supernatural shit I’ve come across in my life and can shoot literally any weapon with enough accuracy to pick a fly out of the air a hundred feet away. She’s almost too sharp for her own good and uses that to out wit everyone she knows!”

“Aw, thanks, Stiles!” Allison’s dimples were out in full force with the complement. 

“Plus she knows exactly what we’re getting ourselves into, by going in there.” Here Stiles paused to make sure Derek was keeping up. “Do you know who runs LE?”

“Argent,” Derek replied, eyes narrowing in hatred.

“Well, Derek, meet Allison Argent, our best hope at saving your pack.” As soon as the word ‘Argent’ left Stiles’ lips, Derek wolfed-out and dropped to an offensive crouch, red eyes blaring and teeth snapping as he glared at Allison.

“I really don’t suggest trying anything,” Scott stepped in front of his wife, claws and fangs out.

“Derek don’t, you won’t win this. Plus Allison isn’t a hunter, never has been. Her mother and father left the family business long before Allison came along.” Stiles pleaded.

“I’m married to a werewolf, Derek. I would never hurt one,” She spoke slowly, not letting her eyes leave Derek’s as her hand curled over Scott’s shoulder. She knew he would hear the steady beat of her heart tapping out the truth of her words.

Stiles could see logic win out in Derek’s brain as the alpha drew back from his crouch and returned to human features. 

“How are you related to Gerard Argent,” clearly there was not a question. 

“He’s my grandfather. I’ve never met him. My parents only told me about our family history with werewolves when they figured out I was dating one,” Allison replied calmly. 

“And Kate?” Derek gritted out

Stiles, not knowing who Kate was, looked at Allison for an explanation and saw her hand grip Scott’s shoulder just a little tighter. 

“She’s my aunt. We were like sisters when I was younger, but when my dad caught her trying to talk me into running away with her to my grandfather, he kicked her out and I never saw her again.” This seemed to settle some internal argument Derek was having over trusting Allison because he gave a stiff nod and rolled his shoulders back, dissipating the rest of the tension in his stance and the room.

“Yes! Well. Now that that’s settled, can we get to the actual planning?”

The group gathered around the massive kitchen counter where Stiles laid out his research. There were blueprints, topography maps, county ordinances, background checks, ways to combat wolfsbane poisoning, lists of buildings and businesses surrounding LE’s location, and an entire folder dedicated to Gerard Argent alone including pictures and known accomplices. 

“Stiles…” Scott said wearily.

“To be fair, a higher-than-usual percentage of this stuff is legal. It’s pretty much Argent’s file that has been appropriated under less than legitimate circumstances,” Stiles said as he shuffled the papers around into some indecipherable form of organization.

Derek looked at him like he was about to sprout another head. Stiles started talking then, laying out the plan of attack on the Argent strong hold. The conversation was slow going. Each person had something to add, a question to ask, or – in Derek’s case – a snarky comment. The group worked late into the night trying to think ten steps ahead of their enemies and make back-up plans to their back-up plans, just in case. At some point, Lydia stopped the discussion and said that if she didn’t get to bed soon, there was going to be hell to pay.

“Yeah, Lydia’s right. We’ll pick this up tomorrow morning. I’ll meet you all here, bright and early, okay?”

Scott and the girls filed out to their cars under the dim light of the stars and drove away, leaving Derek and Stiles alone in the cavernous house. Derek turned to go back down to the basement; dragging his feet with his head held low like an admonished child. 

“Derek,” Stiles approached him, “you don’t have to be locked up, you know. I have guest rooms. Hell, I have guest suits that you’re welcome to stay in.”

The larger man gave him a long considering look before he minutely nodded his head. Stiles smiled softly and turned towards the foyer and the elaborate staircase that curves dominatingly around the hall. Their footsteps echoed through the two-story entry way as they moved up the staircase. The silence between the two men was comfortable, though exhaustion permeated their every move. Turning down the long hallway, Stiles nods towards the first door on the right. 

“You can take this room, it’s probably the nicest after the master. There are towels in the closet and to turn on the shower you use the panel just inside the glass door. Um, it’s supposed to be idiot-proof but it took me an hour before I figured it out, so don’t get discouraged,” Stiles said with a small huff, “let me know if you need anything.” The corner of his lips turned up in a small private smile before Stiles rubbed his eyes and turned to continue down the hallway. Had he bothered to turn around, Stiles would have seen Derek watch him as he slipped through the double doors and out of view. 

 

.oOo.

 

Derek was not used to nice things. He was not used to having them, seeing them, being around them, or having the patience with them to figure out what secret combination of buttons and passwords it took to turn on some freaking hot water. Jesus, it’s just a shower, who needs all this other crap? Derek retracted his claws for the third time after they popped out, poised to take out the offending electronic, and turned to find Stiles. He gripped the massive fluffy towel around his waist and marched down the hall towards the double doors at the end. 

Derek knocked and waited for a response, but instead all he heard is the shower running. He was exhausted, frustrated, irritated beyond belief, and in need of nothing more in the entire world than an incredibly long, incredibly hot stream of water pouring over his body. 

Before he consciously made the decision, he found himself in the middle of the master bedroom. Well in reality, he was standing in a sitting room complete with multiple settees and a table against the wall that held an open tumbler of some light amber liquid. One of the glasses half-filled with the apparent liquor sat abandoned on the dresser in the next room. Moving past a set of French doors, Derek stepped into the bedroom proper. The master bed was a California king sized behemoth that sat high off the ground as if disgusted the plush white carpet was even there. The sheets looked luxurious even in their rumpled state, strewn across the mattress in crumpled peaks and valleys, mapping the restlessness of the previous night. Derek imagined himself sprawled across that bed. It was so large he could have curled up on it with his entire pack. Erica would sandwich herself between Derek and Boyd, bright curls ending up in his mouth when she turned to cuddle into Boyd. Isaac liked to use someone as a pillow; it didn’t matter, really, who it was as long as his head was resting on someone’s chest that rose and fell with each relaxed breath. 

Derek stared at the bed for a long time, recalling all the pack piles he’d been a part of in his life, just to have them ripped away, when there came a soft clearing of throat beside him. How Stiles managed to turn off the shower and come up next to him while he was standing there surprised Derek into snapping his head to glare at the young officer.

“Sorry,” Stiles seemed sad, “I didn’t mean to surprise you. Looked like you had some pretty heavy thoughts, though.” Derek just looked at him, standing there with his own white towel wrapped around his hips. Stiles’ shoulders spread out far to the side, stretching skin dotted with moles across his collarbone. He was lean, though clearly muscled from the police academy training as Derek could see definition in his abs and chest. Raking his eyes up strong arms, the werewolf made eye contact with him once more.

“The shower isn’t working,” Derek said, not acknowledging the once-over he had just given his host. 

“Uhh…” Stiles seemed paralyzed for a moment before his mind caught up to the situation, “right, yeah. It’s tricky, here let me throw some sweats on and I’ll come get it going.” Derek stayed still for a heartbeat or two before nodding and turning around to retreat back to his own room. 

A few minutes later, Stiles knocked on the open door before walking in, Derek standing up off the bed and trailing after him as they entered the bathroom. He had pulled on a ratty loose pair of maroon sweat pants that said BEACON HILLS down the left leg which slipped lower on his hips as he stretched around the door to access the control panel on the inside of the cave-like shower. 

“The secret,” he was saying, as Derek tuned back in, “is clicking as few buttons as possible. I can’t help you if you want half the showerheads on with alternating pulsing sprays in five different temperatures, but my specialty is the downpour setting. Basically what it sounds like, it’s just the top showerhead and it pours water all around. Seriously, it’s amazing,” Stiles stepped back as water rushed out from a disk in the ceiling about the size of a dinner plate. He went on to describe how to change the temperature using the sliding bar on the side, and most importantly, how to turn it off. 

“There you have it! One hot shower for ya.” He flashed a smile at Derek that quickly turned into shock when the wolf stepped around him with a quiet “thanks” and dropped his towel to move under the spray, not bothering to cover an inch of exposed… skin.

Floundering for only a minute Stiles collected himself and nervously sent a quick “no problem!” over his shoulder as he shot out of the bathroom and back into his own space. 

The water washed away a lot of dirt and grime and bad memories from Derek’s skin, but it wouldn’t take off the small smile that tugged innocently at his lips. 

 

.oOo.

 

Stiles laid in his bed for a long time staring at the ceiling and trying will his mind away from the image of naked Derek stepping into the shower as steam swirled and twisted around his body, lapping up his strong legs, floating past streams of water cascading down hi – 

“NO. BAD.” He admonished himself, hoping it would be enough to turn his thoughts towards sleep. At this point he was too tense to even close his eyes, what he needed to release the tension was exactly what he was trying to avoid in the first place. 

“Fuuuuuuuck,” Stiles exhaled as he snaked his hand down his sweatpants and slid his long fingers around his dick. Thoughts of Derek swirled back into his mind like the steam around his body in that one delicious moment. Instead of running away, Stiles imagined himself slipping off his own pants and stepping under the spray behind Derek. He would slide his hands around the other’s waist and through the rough hairs south of his navel, peppering kisses across his strong shoulders as his fingers explored different territory. As Stiles’ imagination got filthier, so did his hands. He smeared some lube into his palm and wrapped it back around his dick, twisting his wrist as he pumped hard and long, adding a flick right at the head of his cock where it was most sensitive. He was close to release in just a few long pulls as he thought about a wet Derek kissing him senseless, all scruff and rough manhandling, touching every inch of his body.

In some misplaced sense of minimizing his shame, Stiles refused to take out his vibrator with this fantasy. He had just met this guy who had been held captive and nearly forced to do exactly what Stiles now wants him to do. Many times and in many different positions. No, instead Stiles runs one finger through the mess of lube he’s made and begins to tease at his hole as he thrusts into his fist and works his finger in right to the last knuckle. It’s imagining Derek bending him over and fucking into him from behind that sends Stiles over the edge of orgasm. He comes with a moan and all over his stomach in bursts that make his abs clench with effort, fist clenched tight around his dick and riding out the pleasure as it weaves its way through his body all the way down to his toes, curling in the sheets. 

He lays there for a minute, incapable of movement, and looks over to see he forgot to shut his door after he came back in. Stiles wonders idly how good a werewolf’s hearing really is.

 

.oOo.

 

Derek laid on his back, listening to everything, dick hardening for the first time in almost a year at hearing someone else get off. He doesn’t touch himself, can’t, after so much time spent denying himself any pleasure. But, also for the first time in almost a year, Derek doesn’t want to spend the night alone. 

 

.oOo.

 

The next morning Stiles was up with the sun, making coffee in the kitchen when Derek walked in, sleepy, barefoot, wearing borrowed sweatpants and sporting a wicked case of bedhead. Stiles’ cheeks colored at the inevitable flashback to his thoughts the night before as he compared that Derek to the one in front of him now, who could barely open his eyes.

“Morning,” Stiles said easily, trying to brush off the awkwardness he felt, “sleep alright?”

Derek glanced at him and thought for a moment before he turned away and said so quietly he nearly whispered, “It’s the first sleep I’ve had in months that wasn’t drug-induced.”

Well.

Good morning.

The two men stared in opposite directions, Stiles standing and looking out the windows at the lush greenery outside, Derek perched on a barstool and tracing patterns in the granite countertop. The ringing of the doorbell shocked Stiles out of his trance and he pushed off the counter to answer the door, sparing once last glace towards Derek as he brushed past and into the foyer. When Stiles walked back into the kitchen with Scott and the girls in tow he stopped dead in his tracks, causing the ever-graceful werewolf behind him to run smack into him. 

“Dude, what the hell,” Scott said as he ducked around Stiles and up to the kitchen island where Derek was chopping vegetables. Seriously. Just standing there, half naked, looking like a Calvin Klein underwear model slicing up some red peppers with no hesitation in handling the knife.

“Hey Derek, what-cha-makin’?” Scott said with familiarity. Stiles supposed spending hours and hours of arguing and debating and researching with someone does lead some kind of friendship. 

“Omelets,” came the response in the form of a grunt. Derek glanced up at Stiles before returning to the cutting board, this time with an onion.

“For us?” Stiles was shocked. He knew the house was well stocked, he liked to cook himself and made sure that he had everything he would need in the refrigerator, but never would he think of making omelets for everyone, let alone Derek making them.

“Yes.”

“In that case I’ll have extra spinach and no onions, please,” Lydia piped up as she gracefully eased herself onto a barstool. Derek just nodded and threw another handful of spinach into a pan already wilting some on the stove. He even went to far as to whip the eggs a little before pouring them into the pan over the vegetables. As a final touch, Derek reached into the fridge and pulled out a block of Swiss that he grated over the top of Lydia’s omelet before pushing the plate over to her with a fork. She smiled a genuine smile and took a bite; almost as soon as the egg touched her tongue her eyes rolled back a little in her head and a moan wormed it’s way out her closed lips.

“Derek,” She had his eyes locked on hers, “this is incredible. Truly.”

The others stared at her with their mouths open. Lydia doesn’t hand out compliments to whoever wants one, needs one, or – most of the time – even to someone who deserves one. No, when Lydia Martin compliments someone so honestly, something amazing has happened. Stiles, Scott, and Allison turned to look at Derek in shock, who looked back at them with a blank expression. Lydia didn’t look up from her breakfast. 

“Anyone else?” He said with a slight quirk to one eyebrow and no concern to the monumental event that just occurred. 

“The works, for me, Derek,” Allison flashed her dimples and Derek turned back to the stove, adding ingredients and spices that Stiles didn’t even know he had. He made both Allison and Scott’s omelets in quick succession before turning to Stiles.

“Oh, uhh, no, thanks, go ahead and make your own, I’ll just have cereal.” Stiles turned towards the walk-in pantry to retrieve a box with an offensively high sugar content, working his way around the kitchen gathering a spoon, bowl, and milk, carefully avoiding accidentally bumping into the giant hunk of muscle in front of the stove. 

“Dude, you are so missing out, these things are seriously amazing,” Scott managed to get out around a mouthful of mushrooms and cheese.

“Yeah, I’m sure they are, I’m just uh… not that hungry this morning, I guess.” Scott gave Stiles a look that was somewhere along the lines of ‘you are so full of shit, Stilinski, but this food is too damn good to waste time better spent eating it on telling you that’.

Scott was right, of course; the omelets looked insanely good and Stiles was one of those people who woke up starving every morning. He just didn’t want to make Derek work. This was supposed to be his time away from having someone order him around and tell him what to do. This was his freedom and Stiles didn’t want him to waste a minute of it doing something other than exactly what he wanted. But damn was it hard passing up a breakfast that looked that good. He pushed aside all thoughts of the hot food he was so heroically denying and threw himself back into Lupus Retrievus as he had begun calling the mission. 

Derek usually glared when he said that so he pretty much only used the name in his head, now. 

 

.oOo.

 

It went on like this for a few days; the group assembling early in the mornings to eat whatever Derek was making that day (French toast, pancakes, more omelets, home fries, it didn’t matter, he’d make it. On one of Derek’s more restless nights, he’d gotten out of bed early and made donuts. Seriously. DONUTS.), planning through to lunch which was whatever Stiles managed to create, and all the way into the night only stopping to order take-out of essentially everything for dinner. Stiles still thought of the shower incident every night when he was alone in his bed, though there was no repeat performance, much to his dismay.

With Derek pushing to get his betas out as soon as possible, the planning process didn’t take as long as a usual police operation would have. Everyone was more or less agreed that the plan would work after only 3 days of non-stop work. The morning of the fourth day, everyone was to gather at the house before heading out to his or her post. Stiles woke earlier than usual and made his way downstairs expecting to see Derek standing in the kitchen like every other morning but what he found instead was a cold, dark space

“Derek?” Stiles called. Even without shouting, he’d know the wolf would hear him anywhere in the house. No response. Weird. As far as Stiles knew, Derek hadn’t been out of the house the entire time he’d been staying there, content just to cook, plan, and sleep. Stiles worried about what it meant that Derek wasn’t around as he walked over to the coffee machine and booted it up. 

The front door opened and closed, though it was still too early for Scott or the girls to show up, and Stiles turned to see Derek standing in the hallway buck-ass naked. His skin glinted with tiny flashes of light as a miniscule drop of sweat rolled down his skin from his temple, all the way down his neck, chiseled chest and abs, and continued uninterrupted down his leg. Stiles tried not to track the little trail as it slid down Derek’s body and failed quite spectacularly. In fact, ogling was a fitting term. Stiles almost forgot what was happening when Derek asked,

“You called?”

“UUHH, yeah? I didn’t know where you were so I… called to you to…” He trailed off mid sentence and never took his eyes off Derek’s spectacular body.

Derek wasn’t even phased by the attention, instead he said, “Right, I’ll make breakfast soon. Just have to – “ he motioned upstairs in a way that meant ‘get cleaned up’. At this Stiles finally managed to pull himself together, tearing his eyes away from his body to look Derek in the eye, which sparkled almost as much as his chest.

“Oh, yeah, don’t worry about breakfast, take your time. We’re probably going to head out as soon as everyone gets here so don’t stress.”

Derek nodded and turned to go upstairs, leaving Stiles feel like he was the one running this morning already. The rest of the group turned up while Derek was still in his room so they went over the plan one last time, making sure everyone knew exactly what was going to happen. 

Lydia already had her computer out, headphones in (“A headset would ruin my hair, Stiles, I’m not wearing one”) and was in the process of lining up everything she needed to override the Lunar Eclipse computer and security system on a moment’s notice. Stiles was loading his guns into his shoulder harness with extra magazines in his pockets and a knife or two attached to various limbs. Scott was double-checking the small plastic transmitter chip in Allison’s hair-tie as she rubbed some dirt off her small crossbow. The chip would let Lydia know exactly where she was inside the building and would pick up and transfer any electronic signal being sent or received within 10 feet of her, including texts, phone calls, or even Bluetooth devices. 

When Derek came to join the rest of the group he had on dark jeans and a forest green henley on that kick-started Stiles’ imagination into over-drive. 

“Fuck,” he breathed out in less than a whisper, though it was clearly loud enough, as both Derek and Scott looked over at him in question.

“Well,” he said calmly, looking around at his team, his face serious and determined, “let’s go bring back the moon.” 

A collective groan diminished the effect of the cool exit line that Stiles had been working on. “Come on, guys, it wasn’t that bad!”

“I thought it was cute, Stiles,” Allison said as she kissed him on the cheek and walked towards the garage. 

“Fuck, that bad, huh?” Scott just gave him a sympathetic look and Lydia covered a very un-ladylike snort with a soft cough. Derek’s lips twitched up for a second before his gritty countenance returned and he, too, made his way out to the garage. 

Lydia looked at Stiles with one eyebrow raised in question.

“Not right now, Lyds.”

“Good luck, Stiles,” She said instead, turning back to her computer.

 

.oOo.

 

Everything was quiet in the back rooms of Lunar Eclipse. Unlike how Derek remembered it with screaming, screeching, taunting, and general chaos, this was like a graveyard. Allison had walked in first, telling her story of the love of her life being turned into a werewolf, her subsequent anger, and discovery of her family’s past. Gerard had welcomed her with open arms, thinking that he had another young prodigy to train to become a killer like he had with Kate. The boys snuck in after the two had gone towards the “showrooms” and taken out the secretary and two guards with tranquilizers. No need to kill anyone without a reason. 

“They’re in the back,” Lydia’s voice reached Derek’s ears from where he could hear her speaking into Stiles’ ear piece. He was the only one to wear one; the wolves would be able to hear what she said just fine without one. 

“Let’s go get your betas,” Stiles said, leading the way towards the showrooms. Never having come in contact with the glass he was held captive behind for so long, Derek was hoping that his claws would be able to make enough of a scratch that they could weaken the glass and break the betas out from the front.

They made their way to the first window: Erica. As soon as she saw Derek her eyes went wide and she pulled tight against her restraints, trying to reach out for her alpha. Tears welled up in her eyes and a vein pushed against the skin on her neck from the force of her screaming out to him. 

Derek’s own eyes prickled seeing her still locked up here. He couldn’t hear a thing she was saying, the glass was completely sound proof, even from the outside. He put a palm to the glass to placate her futile attempts to break her restraints; he didn’t want her to hurt herself. Derek put one nail to the glass and dug in as hard as he could, trying to make any mark at all.

Nothing. Not even the smallest scratch on the surface. He took out the box cutter Stiles had found in a drawer in the house, pushing up the blade and pressed that into the glass as well. Still nothing. 

Bile was beginning to rise in his stomach, he couldn’t reach his beta, he couldn’t help her out of here. A hand rested on his shoulder and Derek turned to see Stiles beside him.

“It’s okay, we thought about this, remember? We just have to in through the back, now,” Stiles gave a little squeeze before dropping his hand, leaving the skin tingling in its wake. “Let your betas know you’re here and to stay calm, okay? Scott and I are on lookout, then we’ll move around back.” The younger man stepped back fully, now, turning to look down the opposite end of the hall that Scott was looking towards. 

Derek turned back to Erica who was a wreck. Tears streamed down her face freely, mouth held open in a silent wail as she dug the chains deeper and deeper into her wrists, putting every last ounce of spirit she had left into getting to her alpha, her protector, her savior. Derek’s heart broke and crumbled in his chest, love for his beta mixing with the purest anger at who put her here rising from his gut, his very soul. The alpha put a finger to his lips in a hushing gesture, palm still open on the glass, trying to exude calm and comfort through the impenetrable wall between them. Erica looked like she stopped screaming and pulled back from the chains a bit, tears never stopping their endless cascade down her gaunt cheeks. 

I’m coming, he mouthed at her, I’m coming. She nodded her head in understanding, eyes never once moving from his. It took great effort for Derek to move from the window but he had two more betas to see. Derek nodded back and moved slowly towards the next window, Erica straining to watch him for as long as she could. 

The next three windows were other female wolves Derek didn’t recognize. Fear and confusion crossed their faces as the three men made their way quickly past their cells. The fifth window was Boyd.

His head hung low, not looking up to see his alpha in front of him. Derek’s gut lurched, that was the look of a broken man. But he knew Boyd. Boyd would never break so easily. Derek threw his fist against the glass trying to get his attention. It took two more tries before a flicker of interest could be seen in his stance. The man slowly rolled his shoulders back before standing up to his full height, chest puffed out, brow lowered defiantly over his eyes that were looking over Derek’s head. That’s the Boyd he knew, never giving up. Derek put his palm flat on Boyd’s glass as well, which drew his attention; no one touched the glass here. 

His eyes went wide with disbelief and his mouth fell open in shock. Derek nodded, tight lipped and mouthed I’m coming for you slowly so that Boyd would understand. The captive’s eyes sparkled as he nodded back before motioning his head towards the next window down with worry in his eyes.

God, Derek loved his betas. They looked out for each other even when they couldn’t do a damn thing for themselves. This was his pack, his family, and the pride he felt towards them was overwhelming in the moment. 

With one last nod to Boyd, Derek moved in front of Isaac. 

Fuck, Derek thought. Isaac didn’t look good. He had dark welts all over his body and his wrists were cut up and continuously bleeding. There was no chance in them healing while he was chained with wolfsbane binds. The beta was barely standing on his own, letting much of his weight rest on the binds that held him spread-eagle like a sick crucifixion. His head sagged; curly hair caked with blood and dirt where it was mated across his forehead. Derek couldn’t see his face properly, but he knew it wouldn’t be good.

Crouching low, Derek waited for Isaac to open his eyes and see him there. It took a few long minutes during which Derek thought he was dead or dying. There was only so long he could suppress his desire to crash through the glass and save the young man, and he was within seconds of snapping when Isaac slowly moved his head up. 

A solitary tear slipped down Derek’s cheek and disappeared into his scruff when he caught Isaac’s eyes. It was worse than he imagined. Both his eyes were swelled almost fully shut, his nose clearly broken and crooked, and his lip was split in two different places. The bruises covered his entire face, leaving no space unmarked. There was almost no light behind the gaze he held. They stared at each other for long moments. Isaac clearly struggled to keep his head up for as long as he did, though right before he had to drop the heavy weight, the corner of his mouth twitched up just slightly. The movement was enough to re-open the wound on his lip that had scabbed over, fresh blood beading before dripping down to the floor. 

It was the most heartbreak Derek had suffered since Laura had died in one simple look and he couldn’t take it anymore. Fire burned and shocked through his veins, starting in his chest and radiating outwards until he felt like everything he touched would go up in flames hotter than the sun. He growled deep in his chest, letting in roll around inside of him, gathering energy, using the anger as fuel, fanning the flames inside of him until he tipped his head back and roared. 

Stiles and Scott dropped to the ground covering their ears trying to get away from the noise. It reverberated throughout the entire building, shaking the walls, rattling chains, and making doors bang on their hinges. Derek could feel the fire in his eyes making them fluorescent with the alpha red color as he pulled his wolf forward in his mind, giving it free reign. No human reason or rationality, just pure animal instinct and revenge would drive him now. 

He took off down the hall that led towards the back rooms with Stiles and Scott lagging behind. There was no way they could keep up with him like this. He tore the door right off it’s hinges with no regard to the passcode they had gotten from Lydia, who was screaming in Stiles ear about ‘the element of surprise’ and ‘putting the entire operation in danger’ but he couldn’t care less. He was here for blood, and blood is what he was going to get. 

Tracking the putrid scent of death and soot that was Gerard Argent was the easiest thing Derek had ever done, as if the smell was lighting the way to his enemy like a runway at midnight. Tearing down the hallway he went left, through the door there, right at the fork and all the way to the end of the hall. One door stood in between him and his goal when he heard gunfire behind him.

Some part of his brain screamed STILES as he whipped his head around to try and locate the noise. Derek was torn between tearing through the one door that separated him from Gerard Argent and turning back to help that man that helped him so recently. Both his wolf and his human side wanted to kill Gerard, but both his wolf and his human side knew he needed to protect Stiles. 

With a snarl Derek took off from where he came from, falling to the ground as soon as he rounded the corner to avoid the bullet launched his way. 

“Baby!” His blood ran cold. Kate. “Oh, sweetheart, you came back to me! I knew you couldn’t resist me.” Derek looked up to see Kate; shotgun perched on her hip like she was holding a textbook, not a loaded weapon.

“Your back-up was a little weak, but don’t worry, I got rid of the dead weight for you,” she motioned behind her where Stiles was lying on his side, facing away from Derek. He couldn’t tell how bad the damage was, or if Stiles was really dead. His eyes locked back on Kate when she swung the gun around aimed right at his forehead. 

“Der, come on. You know how well we work together. What happened to make you hate me so much?” She pushed her lips out in an exaggerated pout.

Derek growled from his crouch on the floor, eyes narrowed and glowing scarlet. 

“Oh, that,” she said with a smirk, “well that’s your own fault, babe! If you had just accepted the generous offer I gave you, maybe mommy and daddy would still be alive, hmm? You’ll see those bastards soon, though. Don’t worry.”

Derek tensed his legs and prepared to launch himself at the woman in front of him, shotgun be damned, but a loud crack ricocheted off the walls right before he could, taking the fight right out of him. Kate and Derek stared at each other in the silence that followed, not knowing what happened. Kate looked down at her chest and the large red bloom that formed at the front of her grey tank top. They both stared at her shirt and the blood continuously pouring out of the gaping wound in her chest. Kate took one staggering step, leg crumpling before holding any weight and she went down. 

Behind her, Stiles was on his back, arms raised and gun aimed right at the spot Kate’s chest just vacated. His eyes were narrowed and his mouth was set into a thin line. He lowered his weapon and looked at Derek, still crouched and more than a little stunned at what just happened. 

“Let’s go get your pack,” Stiles said as he holstered his gun and got to his feet.

“Wha…” Derek couldn’t even get a full word out, he was so awe-struck. 

“Kevlar. Now come on, I don’t want to leave Ally with Argent for a second longer if this is who we’re dealing with.”

Derek stood and numbly followed Stiles as he jogged down the long hallway. Derek heard Lydia speaking through Stiles’ ear piece, “Scott is facing off with Gerard who has a kind of electronic wand with him, it’ll knock both of you out in a second. Open the door with 356**1 then lift the handle up before pushing it down. Follow the wall to your left and you’ll end up right behind him without him seeing”. They slipped into the training room where Derek had spent so many dark days. The recognition of the place hit him in the gut, stopping him in his tracks. Shame, guilt, anger, nausea, all raced through his mind and he couldn’t move. 

Stiles put his hand on his shoulder like he did at Erica’s cell. Erica. Boyd. Isaac. The physical contact grounded Derek as much as the need to free his pack so he grabbed Stiles’ hand and jogged lightly along the wall behind Gerard’s back to a point where he could sneak up on the old man. 

Scott was lying on the ground, jolting as errant shocks of electricity ran through his nerves and Gerard was going off on some monologue about his new toy. Derek saw Allison to the right and nodded at her, she winked back. 

“…thousand volts, Scott.” Gerard was saying. “That’s plenty to make sure you stay down. Can you feel your body betraying you? It won’t respond for a few more minutes, yet, plenty of time for my granddaughter to take you out.” Gerard looked to his right where Allison had refocused on the goings-on in the middle of the large room.

“Come here, Ally, dear. Come make your problems go away. It will feel so much better once he’s gone, I promise.” Gerard was motioning her forward and she took long deliberate steps closer. Derek matched her step for step, making sure no extra noise was created as he moved behind Gerard with Stiles covering him from the wall.

“Go ahead, Ally. Do it.” The elderly Argent had his small mouth twisted into an eerie grin, electric wand down to the side. 

Allison approached the scene carefully, crossbow aimed at Scott, determination locked into the set of her jaw. To an outside observer, it would look as if Allison was steeling herself to make her first kill, but Derek knew better. Her eyes flicked up to catch Derek’s and in the same movement she turned and aimed her arrow right at her grandfather while Derek grabbed his arms from behind, twisting his wrist causing the wand to drop to the ground and roll to where Stiles picked it up and turned it off.

“What are you doing?!” Gerard screeched like a petulant child.

“What’s right.” Allison said as she lowered her crossbow, “What you’re doing here is horrible and disgusting and I’m ashamed we share the same blood. You’re a pathetic old man.” Derek couldn’t detect a single twitch in her eye, jump in her heart, or skip in her voice. She was truly repulsed by her family and his heart ached for her. 

“So here’s how this is going to go,” Stiles said, stepping into view. “You’re going to release all the wolves you have here to me and my care. You’ll shut down this whole operation and donate every cent you have made to Derek here, who is going to build a center for werewolf rehabilitation from the kind of torture that rats like you put them through. Then I take you to prison and let the courts handle you. Understood?”

“Like hell I am!” Gerard snarled. Derek twisted his arms higher behind his back, letting his claws tear at the paper-thin skin under them, earning himself a gasp from his captive. 

“OR,” Stiles was saying, “I’ll completely turn you over to Derek instead, and take the money anyway. By the way, this is Derek Hale, in case you missed that part.” Gerard’s eyes narrowed and Derek could smell the fear wafting off of him like rotting fish. His mouth opened and closed a few times, no sound coming out.

“Yes?” Stiles prompted. “If you’re waiting for your back-up you can stop right now. The two guards and your secretary at the front will be unconscious for another four hours and Scotty here took out the other six you had in the back rooms.” 

Stiles sounds a little out of breath, Derek thought. 

At Stiles’ words, Gerard sunk low in Derek’s grip, resignation permeating the smell of fear and blood.

“Kill me now, boy, because I’m never going away. I’ll fight with everything I have until every last werewolf on earth has been either killed or caged in someone’s home like the worthless creatures they are! YOU’RE ALL – “ His words cut off in a shout as an arrow sunk deep into his leg, just missing any major arteries. 

Three heads swiveled to stare at Allison.

“He needed to shut up,” she said firmly. “Let’s go.” Scott grabbed the bleeding Argent and dragged him out the door and back down the hallway followed by Allison. Stiles looked at Derek who was looking towards a door on the other side of the room.

“My pack.”

“Let’s go get them.”

The two took off down the other hallway that ran in back of the cells where the wolves were kept. 

“Here,” Stiles said, throwing a pair of gloves towards Derek. “They’ll protect you from the chains.” He said in explanation. Derek took them gratefully and took off to the first cell, Erica’s. 

When she heard the door open, she tensed up, all over, shaking until Derek said, 

“I’m here.”

Craning her head around, the blond caught sight of her alpha and immediately broke down into tears.

“DEREK!” She wailed. No other coherent sounds escaped her mouth, though she continued to babble and sob as he took her wrists gently in his hands and releasing them from the chains. With no regard to her nudity, she collapsed against his strong chest and curled in on herself, dampening his shirt with her never-ending tears. Derek looked up at Stiles at the door, holding a large blanket but with his gaze averted from the intimate moment.

“Come on, Erica, let me take care of you,” he whispered in her ear as she shook against him. Stiles came over and draped the blanket across her body until Derek took it and wrapped her up tightly as if the blanket acted as an emotional armor. He sat her down in the hallway with a kiss to her head before turning to open the door to Boyd’s cell and repeated the process. The larger beta throwing his arms around his alpha, fingers bunching so tightly in Derek’s shirt it was almost painful. Then, wrapped tightly in another blanket he was sat next to Erica. The two betas immediately reached for each other and began rubbing their cheeks together. They no longer smelled like pack, just fear and blood. 

Next it was time to get Isaac out. Derek took a deep breath before opening the heavy latch on the door and sliding it back. He immediately ran to Isaac’s wrists as the beta was no longer even trying to stand and the chains were slowly burning their way through his entire wrist. He collapsed on the ground; not even acknowledging his alpha was near except for the high whine that was pushed out his lungs. Stiles grabbed two blankets and helped Derek wrap the injured man up gently, but snug. Derek didn’t put Isaac down, instead carrying him to the other betas as all four wolves cried and clung to each other, piling together careful not to jostle Isaac who looked like he fell asleep or passed out from the pain. 

Derek was beside himself with grief and relief. He was horrified and angry at the conditions under which his betas were kept while he was staying in a mansion, and yet his heart felt like it was floating ten feet above his head with the joy of being reunited. They stayed like that for a long time, cries turned into sniffles, which turned into snores as the emotional turmoil of the day caught up with everyone. 

 

.oOo.

 

Stiles stood down the hall, giving the pack their privacy as he spoke with Lydia, hand pressed tightly against his shoulder.

“Get Scott to come back down here, I think Erica should be carried out, too. Boyd looks like he’s the best off and will probably be able to get to the van on his own.” 

“Already on it, Stiles.” Lydia said quietly. “How are you doing, though? Kevlar is pretty good but not against a shot gun and I can see you holding your shoulder.”

“I’m… holding up.”

“Stiles, don’t bullshit me,” the voice in his ear demanded.

“I’ll go to the hospital when we get the pack out of here. Get my dad and his unit down here, too. There are other werewolves still here we need to get out. They’ll need medical attention, too, so call Mel – “

“STILES,” it was Lydia’s serious voice, “you’re my number one priority right now. Allison and Scott are coming back; let Allison take you to the hospital right away. We’ve got the rest of this.”

Come to mention it, he was feeling a little light-headed. The adrenaline leaving his system, probably.

“Okay, yeah. Just let me… know if…” He couldn’t even finish his thought before the blackness took over and he went down.

 

.oOo.

 

Growling. 

Really? That’s what death is like? Movies just can’t get anything right these days, can they?

 

.oOo.

 

“Turn off th’beep,” Stiles slurred.

A weight shifted next to him and he felt a hot pressure on his arm and hand.

“Stiles?” Unconsciousness took him back before he even registered who was speaking.

 

.oOo.

 

This time when Stiles awoke, he fought off going back under. He tried to move his hand to rub his eyes but found it was held tight under something warm. Stiles turned his head to look at the obstacle but found a body there instead. A nice warm body. A nice too-warm body, actually. Stiles raised his other hand weakly and pushed at the skin next to him in a feeble attempt to move the furnace disguised as a human. 

Or a werewolf, offered an optimistic part of his brain.

The boulder next to him shifted and sat up, pale green/brown eyes blinked down at him. A small smile stretched lips into a relieved expression that reached up to crinkle those gorgeous eyes. 

“Welcome back,” Derek whispered.

Stiles’ lips curled to match the smile as he blinked the sleep away from his eyes.

“How long was I out for?” Stiles asked as Derek reached to the side and pressed a button.

“About two days. You lost so much blood, Stiles, how did you not tell me you were hurt like that?” Concern took over on Derek’s face and Stiles didn’t like how it darkened his light eyes.

“No, no. No guilt tripping. We had to get your pack, I’m not sorry.” Stiles’ brow furrowed defiantly.

“I’m not sorry, either, but you’re important, too. Important to me.”

Stiles blinked a few times, letting the words sink in. He must have heard that wrong. He must be high on his pain meds or something. 

Before he could start over-analyzing Derek’s words, his father ripped open the door and ran over to his bedside.

“Stiles, thank god,” the Sheriff said, touching his son’s cheek, being careful not to touch anything that may hurt him. “Had to go be a hero, didn’t you, son?” He said with a soft chuckle.

“Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, huh?” Stiles said, smiling weakly, and wincing as he became more aware of the pain in his shoulder.

“Don’t hurt yourself, kid,” his dad laughs, relief clear on his face.

Melissa comes in a moment later to check Stiles’ vitals and whatever else nurses do when they poke those machines, many of which were hooked up to Stiles’ body.

“Gave us a good scare, there, Stiles. Don’t do it again, hmm?” His almost-mom raised her eyebrow at him.

“Hey, no admonishing the guy in the hospital bed. It’s a law.”

“No it’s not.”

“Love you, too, dad.” The Sheriff chuckled lovingly at his son. In a hospital bed and still able to crack jokes.

“So what happened to me?” Stiles asked in a voice much quieter than his usual volume. To someone who didn’t know better it would sound almost meek. 

“The Kevlar stopped most of Kate’s shot, but it still managed to graze you pretty bad,” his dad was saying. “You lost a lot of blood while you were running around trying to get everyone out of there, kid.” At the vague allusion to the pack Stiles’ head whipped around to Derek.

“The betas! How are they? Is Isaac healing all right? God, please tell me he’s okay, I don’t know what I’d – “

“Stiles, they’re fine. They’re here actually,” Derek said, giving his hand a squeeze. Huh, they were holding hands. That’s nice. “They want to thank the man that saved them.”

“Well I don’t know how much I re-“

The betas must have been listening just outside the door because as soon as Derek mentioned them, a mass of blond curls and sharp cheekbones came flying at him through the open door and two lumps landed on his bed with minimal jostling. Boyd walked in behind them, ever the stoic one, and sat by the foot of the bed, hand on Stiles’ ankle. The other two had effectively made a vice out of their bodies and were snuggled up tightly on either side of Stiles. 

Soft snuffling sounds came from Blondie on his left, while Cheekbones on his right refused to let go of the death grip he had on Stiles’ hospital nightgown.

The Sheriff just shook his head with fondness. “They wouldn’t let anyone in the room,” he was saying. “I got in because I guess we… smell the same?” He aimed his question at Derek who nodded. “Melissa practically had to drag out her passport and two witness to vouch for her identity before they let her in.” He was putting on a serious face, pretending to be put-out by their protectiveness, but Stiles knew he was exceptionally pleased with their show of affection, even if it was a little over-kill, considering Stiles technically hasn’t met the crowd on his bed, yet.

Derek and the Sheriff’s eyes met over the bed and the wolf nodded. He nudged Isaac in the back and told his betas to leave the small family alone. Stiles’ heartbeat sped up at the thought of Derek leaving.

Machines started beeping but Derek just said, “I’ll be back soon, just going to get some coffee. I haven’t really slept yet.” If the look on his face was anything to go by, that translated into “I haven’t slept the entire time you’ve been asleep and I’m dying here”.

Once the pack left the room Derek glanced back, catching Stiles’ eye. Stiles tried to identify what he saw in the gaze before Derek turned and left the room. Stiles looked at his dad who was still staring at the door with wonder.

“I don’t know how you did it, kid,” He began. Stiles was expecting some long-winded speech about how impulsive his decisions were and how he needed to use the back up more efficiently, but instead the Sheriff continued with, “he’s a really good man.”

Which… what?

“What?”

“Derek. He’s a good guy.” 

“Yeah? I mean he really loves his pack and takes great care of them, so I guess so.”

“You really lucked out with him.”

“I think you’ve lost me. What are you talking about?” Stiles was so confused.

“Have you two not talked yet?”

“Oh, yeah, because between getting shot at and helping half a dozen captured werewolves escape their sex prison Derek and I sat down with tea to have a chat,” Stiles snarked. Let it be known there was never an inappropriate time for sarcasm.

The Sheriff smacked him lightly on the back of the head. “Clearly you’re feeling better. But if you two haven’t talked yet I’m going to go. Probably end up babysitting the puppies again.” He grumbled as he stood up.

“Aw! You call them puppies, that’s so sweet, old man!” Stiles was caught up in imagining his dad rough-housing with the betas when the rest of his words caught up to him.

“What talk are Derek and I going to have? Dad? Seriously, what’s going on??”

The Sheriff just chuckled as he gave Stiles a kiss on the forehead and left the room. Stiles’ head was reeling, going over and over what had been happening trying to figure out what he and Derek possibly needed to talk about so suddenly. 

The wolf shouldered his way into the room, suddenly shy at having all the attention on him. 

“So what’s going on?” Stiles asked, exasperated at all the secrets.

He barely had time to register the movement before Derek was at his side, leaning down and pressing his soft lips to Stiles’. The kiss was innocent, loving, and lingering, lasting a full heartbeat longer than your average “hey, welcome back from the brink of death” peck. 

“Now I’m twice as confused and three times as horny.” He muttered as Derek pressed their foreheads together. 

“You talk a lot in your sleep, you know,” Derek didn’t even acknowledge that comment. “About how you care about me. You don’t want to push me into anything. There was definitely a few lines in there about how bad you wanted an omelet, too, but wouldn’t ask me to do anything I didn’t want. Not ever.”

Stiles groaned. “Oh god, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it awkward.” All the blood Stiles had left in his body was rushing to flood his cheeks and ears a bright red.

“Does it look like I find it awkward?” Derek said with the smallest smile on his lips. “You’ve been driving me crazy this whole time. I can smell pheromones, you know. I knew that you wanted me, but then you’d refuse every offer I gave and never let me do anything for you. I barely slept wondering why.”

“Well now I’m thoroughly embarrassed, thank you.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. I care about you, too. No one…” Derek huffed and bowed his head, whatever he was about to say wasn’t coming easily. He continued quietly, “No one’s ever looked out for me like that. Not since Laura died. You don’t know what you did by helping me.”

“Laura, your sister?” Stiles asked, deflecting the compliment.

“Yeah, how’d you know?” Confusion rippling across his face.

“It wasn’t just Argent’s file I looked at,” the young cop replied sheepishly. “I just wanted to know more about what I was getting myself into, and that meant you, too.”

Derek just laughed at the blatant abuse of power. 

Stiles blushed furiously and started to stammer. “Not that I’m trying to get into you or anything, that’s not what I meant, of course, I just meant I needed to know who I had bought! NO! Not bought, though technically I did buy you, I guess, I mean brought into my home… or at least the home that the depar– “

Derek shut him up with another kiss, a soft pressure to stop the constant movement of his tempting lips. 

“I get it, Stiles. Don’t worry.”

“Good, good, I’m glad.”

“If you two look at each other like that all the time, now, I may throw up.”

“Scott! Hey, buddy!”

Scott reached down to give his best friend a tight and slightly awkward hug. After many assurances he was indeed fine, the two talked for a while with minimal amounts of shoving while Derek held fast to Stiles’ hand even while he flailed his arms. It was so nice to see his best friend again and all in one piece. 

Stiles was released from the hospital later that day after a thorough check-up from Melissa and speech or two from various doctors and concerned parties (“Of course I didn’t try to get shot, dad.”) on his lack of a sense of self-preservation. After saying goodbye to his father, best friend, and Melissa, Derek took him home. His actual home, too, not the giant mansion outside of town, but the small apartment downtown with the tiny bathroom and air conditioner that only worked when you didn’t want it to. 

“I was shot in the shoulder Derek, I didn’t lose the ability to walk.” Stiles’ complaining was completely ignored as Derek carried him up the stairs to his third floor walk-up and lowered him gently on to the over-stuffed couch. Even when he moved back, Derek maintained some physical contact in the form of a hand on Stiles’ knee. 

“If you’re going to keep me prisoner on my own couch, the least you could do is bring a guy a beer. It’s been a long week.”

“The doctor said no alcohol for at least 48 hours,” Derek recited.

“And you should help yourself, too, Doctor Hale. I’m usually fully stocked.”

Derek paused long enough to smirk at the crippled cop before getting up and opening the refrigerator door. 

“The pilsner!” Comes a shout from the other room.

Derek chuffs to himself as he grabs the desired vice and when he walks back into the room carrying two beers, Stiles has the TV turned on to the news. With everything that went down, the department had a hell of a time trying to cover up the truth behind the Lunar Eclipse bust, turning it into a drug trafficking operation gone wrong. The werewolf set down the open beers and snatched the remote out of Stiles’ hands, changing the station to some action movie.

“Hey! I was waiting for them to mention my heroics!” Stiles pouted

Instead of responding, Derek handed him his pilsner, and clinks the bottlenecks together, settling himself securely against Stiles’s uninjured side.

“This is good, too, I guess.”

They sat in silence for a while, watching people or aliens or something race around in space and Derek cautiously, so slowly, slides his hand over Stiles’ thigh to rest right above his knee. The silence pervades for all of three more minutes before Stiles has to say something. 

“You’re being awfully quite tonight.”

Derek took a long draft from his second beer and stared at the TV for a few moments longer. 

“You asked me to get a beer for you.” A small, pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. 

 

.oOo.

 

Two movies and quite a few beers later, Stiles has scooted himself into a nearly horizontal position with his back to Derek’s side with his head resting on the other’s shoulder. While the room wasn’t spinning, it wasn’t really in focus, either, which was always the exact time in his ‘nearly drunk’ stage that Stiles got honest. Brutally honest, in fact. Derek’s arm was wrapped securely but gently around his shoulders and chest, his fingers idly stroking the fabric above his heart, which was beating at a slightly erratic pace. 

There was a small amount of turmoil going on in Stiles’ head. On the one hand, he wanted nothing more than to whip around, firmly plant himself in Derek’s inviting lap, and start a make-out session that would hopefully lead to a very fulfilling night. On the other hand, he didn’t know if Derek would be okay with anything physical from him. Chaste kisses and low-key snuggles seemed okay, but who’s to say that makes it okay for any other kind of physical contact? It’s not every day your potential partner also just so happens to be a newly released sex-slave with fresh memories of torture and humiliation all in the name of sex. 

But those cheekbones, though! They have to add like, what, 10 points to the pro- ‘sit on his lap’ side? 

While Stiles was ignoring the movie in favor of hashing out the pros and cons of making a move, Derek made the decision for him, reached across his body to grab his leg and in one swift movement pulled Stiles around to straddle his lap.

“Well hi there,” Stiles whispered. His heart was beating and jumping in his chest, breathing a little stilted from the shock and anticipation and arousal he was feeling. He was getting the look from Derek. The “I’m overwhelmed and need to kiss you” look where his eyes go soft, mouth goes slack, and his eyes couldn’t decide whether they wanted to stare into Stiles’ eyes or focus on the plump lips right in front of him. 

Heart beating hard and steady, and with the knot of anticipation in his throat, Stiles slowly leaned forward, closed his eyes, and pressed gentle lips to Derek’s. 

Derek immediately pressed forward into the kiss, sliding his hand up Stiles’ back and threading his fingers through soft brown hair to pull him closer. A startled moan escaped Stiles’ lips just to disappear into Derek’s mouth as he pushed his tongue into his mouth. The kiss deepened and Stiles surged forwards, pressing his whole front against the carved muscles of Derek’s abs, making their clothed cocks rub together through the confines of their jeans. 

Stiles’ head fell back as a filthy moan rumbled up through his chest and Derek set to work decorating Stiles’ neck with love bites and kisses. 

“Derek I have to tell you something.” Stiles panted out, though the other just grunted, not releasing his hold on Stiles’ neck. In his tipsy state, Stiles couldn’t focus on much else than the feeling of Derek’s lips, and the overwhelming sense that this was wrong. That he was doing something wrong.

“Derek, stop, I can’t do this.” Stiles had to make sure this was okay. He had to make this right. Because he cared, god he cared so much about this cosmically damaged, tragically loyal, painfully human werewolf, and he had to do right by him. 

At his words, Derek froze. A small whimper from Stiles at the loss of activity was interrupted by Derek depositing him back in his original seat on the couch, and the wolf sprang up and in half a heartbeat was clear across the living room, face contorted into a heartrending visage of pain, disgust, and confusion.

Stiles looked around in distress at the sudden change in activity, eyes settling on Derek’s face right as the wolf began apologizing profusely. 

“You’re right, Stiles, I don’t know what I was thinking just attacking you like that…”

In a flash Stiles was on his feet and running over to Derek who flinched back like he had been struck. 

“Derek, no, no, that’s not what I meant,” Stiles pleaded, “I don’t want to pressure you into anything, I don’t want to push you further than you’re comfortable with. I want this with you. So much and so often, but not until you do, too. Never –“ 

Stiles was cut off as Derek grabbed his neck and pulled him into a searing kiss, saying all that he needed to without a word. Stiles’ eyes popped open at the contact, and slid shut as the full impact of what the kiss meant sunk in. This was all they were waiting for, the mutual admission of desire.

This meant the promise of Derek. It meant comfort with each other, and the overwhelming desire to be… together. 

Not losing a minute of his newfound confidence, Derek reached down and grabbed at Stiles’ thighs, pulling him up as the cop wrapped his legs around Derek’s body. The kiss deepened into a searing press of tongues and lips that shot straight to Stiles’ dick, making it harden rapidly. The manhandling werewolf groping his ass probably had something to do with that, too. 

Derek, with the ease that comes only to those with super-human strength, walked them towards Stiles’ bedroom off the main living space and unceremoniously dropped him on the king size bed.

Stiles bounced on the mattress in shock at being thrown from his sexy spot wrapped up in a hot werewolf. 

“What was th—“ but before he could even finish his sentence his words were ripped from him just like Derek’s shirt was being ripped from his body, revealing the most beautiful chest/ab combination Stiles had ever seen. Now, he’s no blushing virgin, here, having been with plenty of men and women over the years, but Derek was something else. Something chiseled by the hand of Michelangelo himself or, you know, something slightly more poetic and definitely less cheesy. 

Stiles wasted no time in divesting himself of his own clothes in preparation of the good times ahead. He stretched out on the mattress and rolled on his side to reach the nightstand where he kept his lube and condoms. Before he could even open the drawer Derek dragged his tongue from Stiles’ hip to shoulder, as he was splayed out on the bed. His hands started roving all over the wonderfully exposed skin, from shoulder to thigh and everywhere in between.

Stiles let out a filthy moan and a full body shiver at the sensation and closed his eyes as he rolled on to his stomach. The quest for lube all but forgotten as every nerve ending in his body lit up with desire. 

At some point Derek must have reached past Stiles to grab the lube himself, because Stiles felt the telltale cold wet drizzle on his ass, getting everything sloppy and wet. Derek used both his hands to smear the lube all over Stiles’ ass, massaging it and making it shiny and slippery before he took two fingers and rubbed at his asshole. 

“Oh yes, Derek. Derek I need it dirty, please.”

“Rough and dirty?” Derek asked in a hoarse voice as he simultaneously pressed two fingers into Stiles who groaned loudly at the intrusion. 

“Yeeeeeeessss, yes just like tha- ah...” Stiles was reduced to incoherent noises at this point as Derek twisted and curled his fingers, searching for that one sweet spot. 

Derek’s pupils were dilated so far there was almost no color left as he stared down at his fingers slowly being pressed into a tight ring of muscle. He hooked his fingers and pulled at the rim, teasing Stiles in the most amazing way, right at the edge of too much and never enough. 

“Derek… I love this, I do but… uunnggg… I need more”

Derek took each lubed up, round ass cheek in his hands and spread them wide, revealing a wet and aching hole begging for his cock. Pressing his cock into the crack of Stiles’ ass, Derek thrust against his hole, teasing at the entrance before smearing the remaining lube onto his own dick. Derek took his cock in hand and lined the head up with Stiles’ hole.

“Ready?”

“YES already!!”

Stiles was impatient - so fucking impatient - so Derek wasted no time in pushing his cock head into the tight hole as Stiles growled into the sheets. Slowly the tight ring relaxed around the intrusion and Derek could feel Stiles’ entire body work to accept Derek as part of him. Once he had relaxed enough, Derek, in one fast jabbing movement, thrust his cock deep into Stiles ass bottoming out with a long, aggressive penetrating thrust. 

“OH holy fuck!” Stiles was forced up from his spot on the bed and nearly head-butt the wall with the power of Derek’s thrust which felt like it hit every single active nerve in his body, lighting up his mind like the blinding flash of fireworks. 

The two remained connected for a few beats when Stiles started grinding backwards before he had even completely relaxed. 

“Come on, Derek. Wreck me. Make it hurt.” Stiles could barely whisper the words but he meant them with his entire being. He needed to feel… something. After the adrenaline and constant overbearing fear of the past few weeks, Stiles needed a release to lift the tension from his shoulders.

“Fuck, Stiles, you can’t say shit like that and expect me to keep it together,” Derek panted into his neck where he was working on a rather impressive hickey. 

“Then don’t.”

Those words lit a fire in Derek’s heart, his whole body lighting up with flames coursing under his skin. He was vibrating at such a high energy he could barely even say “you’re safe-word is pineapple” before he slowly – excruciatingly slowly – pulled his cock out of Stiles tight clenching hole, breath coming short for both men. Right before the head popped out, Derek’s muscles curled and clenched and he slammed into Stiles’ ass, moving them both up the bed a good foot and a half and eliciting a shout ripped from Stiles’ chest. 

Knowing that Stiles wanted it rough and hard and had a safe-word, Derek was free to let go and give it all he had. One hand wrapped around Stiles’ hips, and the other pushed his shoulders down on to the bed, lifting and tilting his ass so Derek had full access to pound as deep as he could get chasing his release. 

Stiles was moaning and grunting in time with each thrust, his hands snaking up the bed to grasp for the headboard, pushing himself back against Derek’s cock, forcing him ever deeper. His eyes were squeezed shut, blocking out the rest of the world so Stiles could focus on his pleasure, releasing every noise Derek extracted from him loudly and unabashedly. 

Derek looked down at the lithe body laid out beneath him, small moles decorating his back, strong muscles flexing and undulating with desire. The soundtrack of the room nothing but sweat-slicked skin on skin and deeply satisfied moans. The noises Stiles were making would cause a porn star to blush and Derek suddenly had to see him. Had to look him in the eye as he incoherently praised the sex-gods for “your majestic dick”.

“Turn over.” Derek demanded, releasing Stiles’ shoulder, panting as he reluctantly pulled out of the younger man.

Stiles did his best to turn over as quickly as possible, but it kind of looked like Jell-O attempting to ice skate so Derek grabbed his hips and flipped him on to his back before he had even taken his next breath. Stiles’ mouth popped open to a pretty little ‘o’ and he looked at Derek with pupils blown wide. The fire under Derek’s skin surged to an inferno as he leaned down to capture those tempting lips, trying to send the flames through their connection so Stiles could feel everything he was feeling, too. 

It must of worked because Stiles grabbed the back of Derek’s head and pulled him closer, pressing their bodies together at every point of contact and let slip a short high-pitched moan while his hand slipped down between their two bodies to re-align Derek at his entrance.

“Don’t stop now, please,” Stiles urged him forward and inside as his body, rolling his hips up for easier access until Derek had re-seated himself deep inside Stiles’ body. Derek was frozen watching as Stiles’ eyes rolled back in his head, those long lashed fluttering closed as he was overcome with pleasure, a deep sigh slipping from his lungs into the space between them. 

Derek slowly started to rock into Stiles, every push coming slightly faster than the last and he was completely captivated watching Stiles’ face each time his dick found the sweet spot. Slowly Derek felt a pressure building at the base of his cock, and prepared himself to come deep inside Stiles. 

With one final, pounding thrust, Derek shoved himself into Stiles and came with a growl, canines sharpening, eyes flashing crimson with the intensity of his orgasm. Derek buried his face in Stiles’ neck, damp with sweat and exertion, breathing in his scent as he emptied himself. 

Derek sat up to pull out and get his mouth on Stiles’ dick, but something was wrong. He was stuck. 

“Uhh… Stiles?”

“Mmm?”

“We’re stuck.”

“Yeah...”

“No, I mean… I can’t pull out.” The concern in Derek’s voice pulled Stiles from his sex induced haze and he sat up to observe the situation. The movement caused Derek’s dick to pull and twist against Stiles’ rim, shooting pleasure up Stiles’ spine as he collapsed back on the bed with a groan of appreciation. 

“Do that again, Derek,” Stiles said with eyes closed. 

Concern was pushed to the side at the sound of Stiles’ voice and Derek experimentally rolled his hips, immediately sparking a moan from Stiles.

“Yes, unnng. I need you to do something for me, Derek,” Stiles whispered.

Derek made a noise meant to mean, “what’s that?” but came out sounding more like: “I’m too transfixed by what’s happening to form coherent words, please go on”.

“Derek… give me your hand.” Stiles said, opening his hand on his stomach. Derek moved his hand to cover the other, but Stiles took it and dragged Derek’s palm up his chest and around his neck, where he let it go. 

“Squeeze, just a little,” Stiles said, rolling his head back to expose more of his throat. 

Derek thought his brain must have short-circuited. There was no way this was happening, that he could handle someone as wonderful as Stiles in this way, with such trust. 

His pause must have been too long for Stiles because the younger man covered Derek’s hand with his own and demonstrated the amount of pressure he wanted as he rocked his hips against Derek’s dick where they were still tied together. 

Clicking back online, Derek took his free hand and wrapped his wet palm around Stiles’ neglected dick, taking a few experimental pulls as he kept the pressure on his neck and the movement in his hips.

Stiles’ eyes flew open with an aggressively loud moan that Derek knew was going to wake the neighbors. One hand fisted in the bed sheets, the other around Derek’s wrist, keeping that hand tight around his throat. 

Seeing Stiles like this was awe-inspiring. He could watch him like this all day, tied up together, submissive and begging for a hard fuck. The noises Stiles was making sent Derek back over the edge, still-hard cock pumping more come into Stiles’ ass as his second orgasm wrenches through his body.

The heat and pulsing cock buried in his ass was the exact push Stiles needed and as soon as Derek’s thumb rubbed over the slit in his dick one last time, he came with a shout and Derek’s name on his lips, body arching against every point of contact the two men had. 

Derek removed his hand from Stiles’ neck and rubbed his cheek with his thumb as the young man came down from his high. 

“Whoa.” The first thing Stiles said, eyes drooping, voice hoarse, hair a mess, and hotter than anyone Derek has ever seen in his life. 

The two stared at each other for a few heartbeats, panting, and waiting for normal brain functions to be restored after the force of their orgasms. 

“Fuck, that was amazing, Derek.” 

“Yeah,” he panted.

They lay there panting for a few moments of bliss.

“So… do you know what’s going on right now? You know, with the whole ‘you’re stuck in my ass’ thing?”

A blush instantly crept into Derek’s cheeks and he started stuttering his way through an apology.

“Dude, no, this is crazy awesome, it’s just equally as unexpected, is all.”

Derek took another look at Stiles after he said that. “You never fail to surprise me.” He said with wonder in his eyes. Derek settled on top of Stiles, hugging him close and whispered his explanation into Stiles’ chest where they were pressed together. 

“An alpha werewolf sometimes gets a knot when having sex with someone they feel… bonded to. It’s not something I can control, unfortunately.”

Stiles was quite for a few minutes, turning over the new information in his mind.

“If you had control… would you have still knotted me?” Stiles said, staring up at the ceiling. 

Derek pushed off the other’s chest so he could look down into his eyes. With one hand cupping his cheek Derek leaned down and pressed his warm lips to Stiles’. The kiss was gentle and lingering and left Derek feeling like he was floating.

“Yeah. I think I would have.”

 

.oOo. 

 

Epilogue:

Stiles sat on one of the matching rocking chairs Derek made for them last year, taking in the last rays of an Indian summer day with a smile on his lips. The kids were running around the edge of the woods and the rest of the family was lounging or standing scattered across the yard. Stiles feels a hand on his shoulder and looks back at his husband of 5 years illuminated in the glowing orange light of the sunset. Derek was staring back with a mirrored expression of adoration on his face. He leans down and presses a firm kiss to Stiles’ lips whispering “I love you” against his mouth, eyes closed. Pure contentment grew in Stiles’ heart and it began to feel too big for his chest to contain any longer. It’s a feeling he’s become familiar with, but will never get tired of. 

“I love you, too,” He smiled.


End file.
